Paula Graves - Forbidden Temptation

Candles and Daniel. A dangerous combination.

Restless, she went to the living room and put a CD in the player, turning the volume up until Patty Loveless’s raw alto bounced off the walls, driving the quiet into the recesses of the old house. By the third song, she was singing along, the music bleeding from her taut nerves. She pushed herself off the sofa and moved to the beat of the twangy waltz, tension flowing out of her as she twirled and swayed.

When her doorbell rang, the discordant noise scraped along the nerves of her spine, jerking her out of rhythm. She turned down the player and crept to the front door. Heart pounding, she peered through the fish-eye lens.

Her sister, Lily, stood on the porch.

Shaky with relief, Rose unlocked the door, barely resisting the urge to throw herself into her sister’s arms.

But the grim look on Lily’s face cut her relief short. “What’s wrong?”

Lily’s lower lip trembled. “When were you going to tell me about the death veils?”

Daniel checked his e-mail before packing up his laptop. There were a handful of official university e-mails and a couple from his assistant, Steve.

“Did a search for Rose Browning,” the e-mail read. “Found some blogs out of her neck of the woods that mention her. Fascinating stuff. Quite a rep as a matchmaker. Hints of some mystical mojo. Can I meet her? Pretty please?”

Mystical mojo, indeed.

What he’d learned from Rose’s brother-in-law only complicated his mixed-up feelings about her. Even as she wriggled deeper under his skin, he kept discovering more reasons why letting her get any closer was nothing short of insanity.

He was a scientist. He dealt in facts, in the tangible. People in law enforcement sometimes talked about what profilers did as voodoo or magic, but he knew it was all about logic and patterns of behavior. Killers weren’t nearly as complicated as people wanted to believe. They killed out of anger or greed or jealousy, and even the superstars of the murder world, the serial killers, had knowable reasons for their murders.

If he found Orion, it wasn’t going to be the result of psychic messages. Of that, he was positive.

At the same time, he considered as he packed his car for the trip back to Rose’s, was it fair to dismiss what she had to say? She had two sisters who claimed to have some sort of psychic gift. Obviously, they’d lived in a household where magic was considered a viable explanation for actions and behaviors. Maybe Rose was using terms like true-love veils and death veils to describe her native instinct for reading people.

After all, what if he’d been raised to believe in the supernatural? Might he use mystical terms like mind reading to describe his ability to predict and explain criminal behavior?

Perhaps, what Rose ascribed to magic was nothing more than a keen understanding of human nature. An uncanny ability to recognize compatibility between sexually attracted couples. And maybe she’d seen in Orion’s victims some sort of increased probability of actions that would put them in jeopardy.

Alice Donovan had been at the bar the night she’d died, to drink and dance away the memory of a bad romantic breakup. She might have been more reckless than usual with her personal safety-something Rose would have picked up on. And Melissa’s blindness to betrayal, such as that of her cheating fiancé, might have made her more vulnerable to becoming the killer’s victim.

Rose wasn’t a liar and she wasn’t insane. Daniel knew that on the gut level. So what, if his new theory didn’t explain everything perfectly? It came close.

Maybe he could live with that.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE he called McBride.” Rose looked at her sister with dismay.

“McBride didn’t know what to think.” Lily touched her sister’s arm. “He’s heard of the man, of course, but you know he’s protective of the Browning girls. He didn’t like what Daniel seemed to be insinuating about you.”

Rose could imagine. “Daniel doesn’t believe me.”

“But you predicted four murders.” Lily looked indignant.

“Would that have been enough for McBride, at first?”

Lily sighed. “You know the answer.”

Rose pulled back the window curtain beside her, gazing out at the gathering storm clouds. “At least he’s still listening to me. Or was, until Agent Brody got hold of him.”

“I can’t believe Brody used me against you.” Lily scowled.

“I doubt Daniel put up much resistance.” Rose let the curtain drop, tears burning her throat.

“Is there something going on between you two?”

Rose looked away, reliving the feel of Daniel’s mouth against her throat. “No.”

At least, not what she’d hoped.

Lily seemed to accept her answer. “I wish you’d told me about this when you first started seeing the death veils.”

The tears welling in Rose’s eyes spilled down her cheeks. “I thought they were punishment for getting things so wrong with Dillon and Carrie. I was ashamed.”

Lily bent forward. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”

Rose fought the urge to cry on her sister’s shoulder. “I don’t want to see death anymore.”

Lily stroked her hair. “I spent years running from my visions, so I don’t have the right to lecture. But you can’t keep torturing yourself.” She dropped her hand. “Does Iris know?”

Rose nodded.

Lily’s eyes dropped, but not soon enough to hide the hurt in their golden depths.

Rose touched Lily’s hand. “I told Iris only a couple of days ago, and only because she wouldn’t leave till I confessed.”

Lily’s lips quirked. “Sounds like her.”

“I was going to call you this weekend to see if I could come visit, but everything…fell apart.” An unexpected ache bloomed in Rose’s chest.

“I’m so sorry about your friend. Last night must have been hell. Have you even had any sleep yet?”

“A little.” Rose glanced at the kitchen clock. “Lily, it’s almost three. Who’s picking up Casey from school?”

“McBride. I’m yours for the night if you need me.”

“I’m fine. Your daughter needs you at home.”

Emotion flickered in Lily’s eyes. “My daughter.”

Rose smiled. “Still going well?”

Lily nodded. “She goes to a therapist a couple of times a month, to make sure she’s adjusting, but I swear, she has everything worked out in her head already. It’s amazing, considering what her life was like after the abduction.”

“Poor Mrs. Grainger,” Rose murmured, thinking of the disturbed woman who’d kidnapped Casey when the child was only three. “Losing her own child and then losing her mind.”

“She was Casey’s mother for six years. No matter how sick she was, she must have done a few things right for Casey to have been able to adjust so well. Casey still misses her.”

Tears prickled in Rose’s eyes. “Poor baby.”

“I think it helps that she and Abby Walters are going to the same school now. Casey still takes Abby under her wing. I think it makes her feel in control.”

Rose sighed. In control-she’d felt that way once. It was time to feel in control again. She’d call security companies first thing in the morning to see about getting an alarm system installed. She’d just have to pinch pennies to afford it.

Thinking of alarm systems reminded her of Jesse Phillips and the discussion she’d had with Frank Carter that morning. She doubted the police had checked his alibis for the nights in question yet. They were probably still tracking down Mark Phagan’s movements from the night before.

She was tired of feeling helpless, afraid to venture from her own house alone for fear of becoming a victim, thanks to the mysterious messages she’d received. If she stayed at home all the time, she couldn’t even use the one tool at her disposal: The death veils that, at least, gave her fair warning of who the killer would next strike. She couldn’t live like this.